


Shoes

by bigblueboxat221b



Series: Mystrade Prompt Challenge Oct 2018 [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Apologies, Drinking to Cope, Embarrassment, M/M, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 10:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: For the Mystrade Prompt Challenge: Greg and Mycroft meet unexpectedly in a hotel.





	Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Your dialogue: "About last night..."
> 
> The circumstances...somewhere out of London
> 
> You must mention...a family member
> 
> And you must use the word...grey

“Gregory.”

Greg groaned. He’d picked the more downmarket of the two pubs in this tiny town, quite deliberate in his attempt to avoid Mycroft and any further conversation about…well. He needed at least three more drinks before he could even consider it in his own head.

“Detective Inspector.”

“Not interested, Mycroft.” Greg spoke without looking up. No need to, when he had such a clear image in his head of those shocked eyes staring back at him…

His dismissal was not enough to turn Mycroft away, however, and to Greg’s dismay Mycroft pulled out the chair opposite him.

“I could not leave without speaking to you.”

“About last night.”

“Yes.”

Greg groaned and tipped up his pint, finishing it off and signalling the barman at the same time.

“Two doubles of whatever your most expensive Scotch is, on him,” he nodded at Mycroft, “and I’ll have another pint while you’re pouring those.”

Mycroft did not comment, sitting in silence while the barman poured their drinks. He handed over a hundred-pound note in exchange for their drinks and a promise they would not be disturbed.

“Not sure there’s a lot to be said,” Greg forced himself to say. It seemed Mycroft was not going to be turned off this conversation. Better to get it over with and hopefully blot out as much of it as possible with booze.

“At the very least I should apologise,” Mycroft said.

Greg winced. “Apology accepted. Let’s not mention it again.”

“Surely,” Mycroft hesitated, “further conversation is necessary?”

“Nope.”

“I am under the impression our previous dynamic will be affected by this.”

Greg snorted. “Sherlock’s right, you are the smart one.”

“Gregory,” Mycroft’s voice had risen, and Greg could see him fighting to lower it again. “Is there nothing in my power to allow us to revert to our previous relationship?”

“Surprisingly enough,” Greg bit out, the careful avoidance and expensive Scotch too much to make him hold his tongue, “I figured I’d be free to have a wank in the shower of my own hotel room without unannounced visitors.”

“Agreed,” Mycroft said, “the hotel admittedly made a mistake with the room assignments.”

“Just a small one,” Greg muttered. Before Mycroft spoke, he knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. There was no way Mycroft could have been in the bathroom and avoided hearing…

“Despite the mortification inevitable on both sides,” Mycroft stressed, “that was not the element about which I wished to speak to you.”

“You heard me,” Greg said flatly. _Christ in heaven, he was fucked._

“I did,” Mycroft admitted. His face, grey with exhaustion, was still flushed having this conversation, and Greg wasn’t surprised.

After all, it was mere hours since Mycroft had entered what he thought was his own hotel room, too exhausted to register the shower running. Too tired and shocked to react when he’d walked into the bathroom to see Greg, shower curtain pulled back, just reaching the point of no return, fist flying over his cock.

In a spectacularly bad piece of luck, Greg had been moaning Mycroft’s name, louder than usual, prompted by seeing him earlier that day in jeans – _jeans, for Christ’s sake_ – and when the man himself appeared, Greg had been too shocked to do anything but stand in shock as he came hard, shooting across the tiny bathroom.

All over Mycroft’s shoes.

So was it that surprising that he’d rather walk the three hundred kilometres home that accept the lift Mycroft had offered?

Greg sighed. “Sorry about your shoes.”

“Do not consider them,” Mycroft replied.

There was silence as both men drank. Mycroft appeared nervous, but to Greg’s surprise the atmosphere wasn’t as awkward as he thought it might have been. Unasked, his mind began to analyse Mycroft’s response.

 _Nervous_ , Greg thought. Not uncomfortable, not in the way an insecure straight man was when he discovered his friend (colleague?) was not as straight as he’d thought. Or even worse, when that friend (colleague?!) turned out to be into him.

Greg had a bit of experience with _that_ particular response, and this was not it.

Something else, then.

A hypothesis came to his mind, something so outrageous, so crazy…but it fit everything.

All the evidence.

_Christ._

Without speaking, Greg stood, staring pointedly at Mycroft until he followed outside into the cool night air.

“Mycroft,” Greg said carefully, walking slowly down the deserted street. After their drinks, Mycroft was practically sober and Greg...a whole lot less sober than that. Enough so he could say what he was thinking, at least.

“Yes?” Mycroft prompted.

“Tell me if this is completely wrong, but is it possible last night’s…incident was not…” he sighed, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, then pulling them out and crossing his arms.

“Obviously, I’m interested in you. Can’t deny it now.” He sighed, his courage and the beer failing him. “I hope that’s not going to be a problem. I mean, I can deal with it, obviously. And it’s unlik-”

It was hard to keep talking when someone was kissing you, and Mycroft had not waited for him to finish his rambling before taking his face and pulling him close.

“Christ,” Greg gasped, when Mycroft finally released him. His hands were gripping Mycroft’s jacket somehow.

“It won’t be a problem,” Mycroft whispered.

“So then…right,” Greg said. He blinked rapidly.

“Yes,” Mycroft said.

“Still sorry about your shoes,” Greg whispered.

“Next time I will be sure to undress before joining you,” Mycroft replied.

“Christ,” Greg muttered. It really was the only word he could think of right now.


End file.
